Away, Away

     This will be a very short post today. All I will say is that I am away from my desk.  Rest assured I'm not going to disappoint you as I will be back soon.


     OK, I'm back.  That wasn't too long was it?  Well, sometimes you just have to step away from something to get a new perspective on what you are doing. This was just that case and I had to step away in order to not get swept away. Often we get too close to something and that nearness has a tendency to cloud our judgement and emotion.  I'm stepping back and taking a fresh look at what is going on.
     I'm sorry but I just can't share a picture with you this morning or whatever time of day it is for you. As you know, I have a wealth of pictures that I love to share with you, but that just isn't the case today.  Again, it is a matter of perspective and change. You can be assured that my next post will have pictures as I am very much aware of how much you enjoy seeing and experiencing them.
     I have to close now. It is very hard looking at things from new perspectives and I must conserve my energy.

Entitlements, A Very Controversial Topic

     Some of you wonder where I get my blog ideas and tiles for those blogs. My thoughts wandered onto this very thought this morning, so it came to me that it was imperative that I shed some light on this very subject. My thoughts have a tendency to wander. It must be my wander lust. You, my readers, have a right to be let in on this very complicated process.
      First, I try to write as early in the morning as I can. Basically, it is one of the first things that I do when I get up in the morning. I get out of bed and make my coffee--excuse me a moment, I haven't made my coffee yet.  I'll be right back.
      You know, there is just something about grinding your own coffee beans in the morning for a fresh pot of coffee.  Did you know that a coffee bean is not a bean at all, but is the see of the fruit of the coffee tree?  Yes, coffee does grow on trees, unlike money which my ex-wife seems to think. At any rate, I prefer a dark roast and that has nothing to do with how I choose a title for my blogs.
     Returning to the subject at hand--what was the subject at hand anyway? Oh yes, how do I get ideas for my blogs?  Yes, it is a very complicated process, one that is so complicated that is difficult to put into words. You have to remember, you are dealing with a very complicated mind.  This brain of mine is working constantly and ideas flow and go through it faster than a Lamborghini being chased by a CHP on the road between Barstow and Las Vegas. Uh, the Lambo is speeding by the way and the CHP is being left in the dust, but you knew that.
     We eat a lot of Chinese take out from Panda Express.  The culinary choices here in Merced are limited to say the least. Yes, I realize that it is hard to say that Panda Express is real Chinese but we sort of like it. Its not quite Hopsing Harry's, but it is quick and fairly tasty. They always include a fortune cookie.  You can draw your own conclusions.
     How do I choose my blog topics?  Oh, just forget it.

My staff, hard at work coming up with ideas for me to cover in my blog.

You Are Going To Wear That? Part 2

     My wife is out again and I think she is at the Fashion Police District Headquarters. I had to go out for a bit to run some errands and I looked resplendent in my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and my Birkenstock sandals. She didn't say a word as the errand was to procure needed supplies for her. This time, comfort won. Besides, I got dressed after she left.

Where you go when you defy fashion law.

You Are Going To Wear That?

     I have to admit, I don't have a real good fashion sense.  If it were up to me, I would wear shorts, a polo shirt and sandals all the time.  That's not exactly true.  When it gets cold, below 60 degrees, I will bring myself down to wear jeans and tennis shoes but that's no big deal. I'm sorry but I wore business attire for so long I swore off suits and ties and even shirts and ties a long time ago after I left the business world. Face it, life is too short to be uncomfortable.
     As you probably know, I love my wife.  I am a bit suspicious though.  Many times she will look at what I have on and ask me if I am really going to wear that. After all, what's wrong with wearing brown shorts with a navy blue shirt and birkenstock sandals to a church award dinner. Its going to be hot in the building. Besides, all those Germans who wear Birkenstocks can't be that wrong.
       Is she a member of the fashion police, Merced Division? My concerns got the best of me. I had to find out so I did a little snooping.  Sure enough there it was tucked in an isolated part of the closet.  It was her Fashion Police dress uniform. I wondered where she went when she said that she had a piano lesson. She was checking in to the Fashion  Police Headquarters for her assignments. She doesn't wear that uniform much, in fact I have never seen her wear it and guess the uniform is only for ceremonial purposes only worn on special occasions. I wondered where she was last week that one day when she was gone all day and took what she called a special dress with her. Maybe I'm paranoid but she does tell me "You're NOT going to wear that, are you." an awful lot. Hmmmmmmm......

Occasionally I will wear a sweater and sneakers. 

My Style Was Cramped

     How many of you have ever been indulging in a wonderful and restful deep night's sleep and have had to turn over. When you turn over something very painful happens.  You get a muscle cramp that makes you feel like your tendon in your foot is about ready to snap.  The pain is intense, and the darn think just doesn't want to go away.
     You try everything to work it out, to no avail.  It just keeps getting worse and your muscle tenses up even further. It hurts, let alone a wonderful deep sleep has been interrupted. The darn thing just isn't going away. If you were a horse your master would have gotten a gun and shot you at this point because of the pain you are suffering just to put you out of your misery.
     What does your wife, who is sleeping soundly next to you no more than a couple of inches do. She turns over and says in a still voice, "Do you have to make so much noise?"
     The pain and noise doesn't subside.  You are trying to be quiet but it hurts too much. The decibel level of the screams of pain seem to increase in relationship to the severity of the pain and the failure to loosen the muscle. You have tried to stretch it out quietly, but to no avail. The cream seem oblivious to any of your efforts to combat it. The hope that I could return to a state of slumber is quickly melting away. Its 2:00 in the morning by the way and I want to go back to sleep. Two O'clock in the morning is too early for me to get up.
     My beloved finally turns to me and says, "What's the matter?  Does it hurt?"
     "No, I'm just trying to gauge my pain tolerance." I said quietly, hiding my real feeling toward her at the moment. (I love you dear.)
     "Why don't you get up and walk it out?" she suggested.
     "I would love to dear."  I said in a loving voice. I think what her real motive was that she wanted to see me crawl or at least fall down out of bed. It has been a long time since she has had a good laugh at my expense.  IT HURT!!!
     After a few minutes which seemed like enough time to create a new world had passed, the cramp finally went away.  I had to gut it out through that incredible pain. I moved my foot back and forth and up and down.  Finally, the pain subsided. It was time to try to finish out the night's sleep.
     Have you ever tried to go back to sleep after a painful incident like this. Morphine would be a great choice, but I am not a drug abuser and I am not in a hospital. My brain decided that the strategy should be to return to sleep by fluffing up my pillow and just going for it. That wasn't working so I decided on another tack.
     I would start counting the dots on the ceiling.  Did you know that there are five billion, three hundred two million, six hundred seventy five thousand, two hundred and seventy eight dots on our bedroom ceiling.  I know this.  I counted them all--twice. That took about two hours and didn't work. I thank my fourth grade teacher for teaching how to count that high.
     Since the counting of dots strategy was not working another strategy had to be implemented. I decided the "Happy Gilmore Happy Place" technique may work. I decided to try to imagine a "Happy Place" and go to it in my mind. I won't describe my "Happy Place" because this post is getting to long, but it was restful and calming, kind of like the dream I was having before all this took place. The is just something about a warm tropical beach and, well you get the idea.
     Can I ask a favor? Will someone look at my leg to see if my foot is still there? My leg has gone numb from the knee on down to my foot.  The cramp has pretty much taken the feeling out of it. I can walk though, I think.

This is a beautiful place, but its nothing like my "Happy Place".

Hey Geico--I Could Write A Commercial For You Part 2

Dear Geico Insurance
     I could write a commercial for you. I am totally out there as far as my sense of humor and I could bring some of that madness to your advertising campaign.  Each commercial is entertaining and humorous which really catches the imagination of viewers.  I have that humor and imagination.
     I just saw the "Operation" commercial and it was hilarious. The idea of a doctor working on a patient and if they fouled up a buzzer would sound really cracked me up. An then there is the "Words Can Hurt" ad. What a stroke of creativity. I wish I had thought of that. Not only that but one would have to wonder if they would really want "A Million Bucks". I also totally understand asking a cat to rescue you from quicksand. I've seen that look from my cat a time or two before.
     Today is Wednesday.  Who can forget the "Guess What Day It Is" ad. That camel is priceless and the follow up commercial showed a stroke of creativity and genius that will never be equaled. All of these fit into my range as far as my sense of humor.
    I can be contacted through my email or though this blog.

Thank You
Dave

PS: This is not related to the subject of my blog but I want to welcome my new readers from Slovakia and Sweeden. None of this blog may make sense to you but hang in there.

This is a subject very deer to me. See Geico, I work well with words. I would like to make a few bucks off writng commercials for you. Call me.  

Don't Touch That Dial

     I have a love for cable TV. Whatever time of day it is I can press the "guide" button on my remote and scan the channels for whatever program that is being broadcast.  If I don't like what I see, which usually is the case because the rule of thumb is when you want to watch some good TV nothing is on no mater how many channels you get, I can always go to "on demand" where there is nothing I want to watch anyway. Ah the pleasures of the electronic age. All these channels for a price that is over inflated and most of us never watch.
     Does anyone get up and change channels anymore? I admit to being guilty of overuse of the remote. By the way, the remote has functions on it that I am not aware of and will never use. Last night I hit a button by accident and there was a game show on.  They were speaking Jamokistani. I don't even know where Jamokistan is but there was a commercial on the show that wanted me to order a pizza.  How long would it take for a pizza to get to me from Jamokastan? I kind of wondered that.
     I looked very seriously at the troubles of this world and I can confidently make this statement. We can blame all the ills of this world on the invention of the TV remote. We no longer get up from the couch and change channels. This set in motion a dangerous precedent of not exercising, as getting up off the couch and physically changing the TV channel was a wonderful physical activity. That has since gone way of the rotary telephone.  We won't even mention the landline home telephone.
     This brings me back to the title of this installment of my trifle comments here. I remember when you liked a program on one of the three network stations that were TV you wouldn't change the channel. Many of the announcers would say, "Don't touch that dial." Today's TV viewer would ask, what's a dial.

I guess we must bridge the gap between the old and the new. OK, so that was a stretch. I have got to take some more pictures to illustrate my blog.  

Who Moved My Cheese...Uh, Car

     I slept very well last night, thank you very much.  There was just one problem.  It was great being in a state of nocturnal bliss and tranquility but my sleep was disturbed. My brain decided to play a mean trick on me. You just wouldn't believe the dream I had.
     Most nights I can remember my dreams and they are fairly pleasant. My favorite one was the dream where I wound up on an island inhabited by a tribe of beautiful women and I was the only man. There is a lot I could share with you about on this one, but I care not to as it would adversely effect my status as a married man. The couch in the living room is comfortable, but I would rather sleep in my bed and not the couch.
      Here is my dream in a nutshell. Actually, I'm writing about it in this blog. The whole thing wouldn't fit in a nutshell and how could you read it if it was. Something written has to be orderly and on a surface where the letters are put out so that you could read it. I suppose you could put it on microfilm and put it in a nutshell, but you would need a reader to read the message. By the way, do people still use microfilm?
       It seems as though I was going to a shop to help a friend build something. That in and of itself is kind of scary because with my mechanical skills you don't want me around any sort of tools. I can be dangerous but that is another story and I didn't mean to bring down that storage rack. It was an accident. Let's just leave it at that, shall we.
      The friend's shop was located in the corner of a shopping center parking lot. The anchor tenant of the shopping center was a grocery store and the parking lot was very big. I parked my car out in the south forty of the lot.  For those of you in Poland or France or Boston, do I need to explain south forty? Let's just say I parked my car away from everything in an isolated corner of the lot. I locked my car and went into my friend's shop which was a part of a gas station.
       We had just finished what we were working on and I was about to leave. As I walked to my car a man came up to me and said, "You won't find your car out there."
        "Why?" I asked.
       "Its just been towed away to the gas station. There is a sign that says you can't park there over two hours and You've been parked there for two hours and five minutes. Your car is at the gas station and you have to pay to get it out."
        "What sign?" I asked. I looked around and saw no sign. This was a bit upsetting.
        I went back to the station to retrieve my car and was told by an attendant that he couldn't release the car and that only the manager had the authority.  The manager who was also the owner had gone for the day so my car would have to stay the night. There would of course be a storage charge. I was not going to pay the storage fee when there was on sign.
        The whole rest of the dream was me trying to get my car back. It seems as though the Supreme Court of the United States would not take the case.  At that point, I decided to pay the $1,000,000 storage charge
that had built up and just forget the whole thing. Admitting defeat, I woke up.

Had to change my mode of transportation.

     

Milk It For All Its Worth

     I wasn't going to post today, but I just couldn't avoid it. An opportunity came up and I just will not let it pass. Whenever life gives you an opportunity, you have to jump on it. It is sort of like the hanging curve ball in baseball. If a pitcher throws you a lolipop hanging curve ball over the plate you have to hit it out of the park. By the way, that is where I heading today. I am going to a Giants game, but that has nothing to do with this post.
     So, my wife poured herself a bowl of cereal. She spilled some milk out of the bowl and onto her recliner. She didn't say much, just "Oh darn, I spilled some milk."
     That got the wheels in my head turning. As you probably know, getting the wheels turning in my head doesn't take much. At any rate, she didn't get very emotional. I was very proud of her because...

...Wait for it...

...Wait for it...

...Wait for it...

...Here it comes, so be prepared...

...Are you ready?...

...Here it comes...

She didn't cry over spilled milk. And my mom always told me, "Never Cry Over Spilled Milk".

PS:  For those who do not follow baseball or do not understand the game, I apologize for the baseball metaphor.

Take me out to the ball game. What does that have to do with spilled milk?

Hey Geico, I Could Write A Commercial For You

Dear Geico Insurance
     I would like to offer my services to you as a commercial writer.  If you have read any of my posts on this blog--you probably haven't but you are not alone in that--you would have noticed that I am a very witty guy. I could bring that wit and strange sense of humor to your advertising campaigns.
     The gecko campaign is truly a stroke of genius. Who would have thought that a small green amphibian whose name is a close homophone to your corporate name would fit the bill as your company spokesman--oops, that's spokesperson as we don't want to offend anyone. You really took the ball and ran with it on this one. I do have a question though.  Where is the gecko from with his slight cockney accent?  I would guess Belize or possibly what was formerly known as British Guyana.  Hold on, I'll check Google on that...
     Wikepedia--we all know the foremost authority on everything which is always accurate--states that Geckos are a lizard that can be found in any warm climate. It also states that a species can be found in New Zealand.  This has caused a change in my thinking, based upon the accent of the Geico Gecko. There is an outside chance he is from New Zealand, although I don't detect a "down under" sound in his accent. You tell me.  Where is the famous Gecko from?  I promise I won't tell.
     For now, I have one last question for you.  Where does he hide his wallet?

This is a close as I could come to a picture of a Gecko. The colors are close and birds are related to lizards. 

 

No Joke--Literally

     I am very much aware of my job. That job is to bring a hearty laugh and a different perspective of the world around us to you my readers. Many have commented that I see the world through slightly skewed eyes. My observations are a bit different, to say the least and I hope that I have made you think a bit and perhaps chuckle. Today is a little different. I have nothing to share with you.
      My world of late has been pretty dull. Sometimes you look and do not find.  Such is the case with me and what is happening. It has been a busy few weeks and the events of the past few weeks have taken me away from my desire to write. That is sad, I know but it is true.
     I am afraid I have nothing witty to share with you today. Let me assure you that this is a very temporary state in which I have come into because my mind has been racing and my wife is about ready to throw me out of the house for some of the bad jokes that I have come up with recently. Please stay with me and experience this drought of humor with me.  I need the company.  By the way, maybe it is the lack of water here in California that is contributing to my drought of ideas. It could just be the debate over water or High Speed Rail here in California that is syphoning off my enthusiasm. Ooops, I am not going to turn this into a political column but I just couldn't resist.
     My advice is hang in there.  My mind can't be held in bondage for too much longer.

Blame Canada!